


If Venomous Fluff Could Kill

by thisonecollector



Series: Prompts and Requests [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Finale, Post-Weirdmageddon, Sea Grunkles, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 03:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7388728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisonecollector/pseuds/thisonecollector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This originally was a request that developed into it's own full-fledged oneshot.</p><p>Stan gets bitten by a venomous sea creature and is bedridden by Ford. After some recovery time Stan decides it's Ford's turn to get some rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Venomous Fluff Could Kill

_ Okay, what if Stan just has Ford's head in his lap talking and touching to lull him to sleep. _

Stan had gotten bitten by some sea creature (honestly he tuned out Ford’s verbal recollection of the events) and to his dismay, was ordered to be bedridden for at least a week so the venom could phase out.

“You can’t be stressed Stanley,” Ford informed him. “stress activates the venom’s chemical reaction, causing your muscles to continuously contract until they rip themselves apart. So you stay in bed.” As far as Stan knew, his twin was a mess. Bag on dark bags under his eyes, unshaven, and unkempt hair. How long did Ford say he was out? _Two days?_ “I already gave you the antidote Stanley, but it still takes time to fully work. I’ll take care of everything, so just stay, in, bed.”

Stan didn’t like these demanding orders, but the moment he tensed up to protest, the muscles in his neck flexed and stiffen without his control! Ford was right, any amount of stress would enact the venom’s deadly properties. So Stan laid in bed. _But it was god awful._ Laying in the same musty colored room for hours. Just staring at the same four walks again. Stanford was already on edge for the past 2 days from waiting for Stan to wake up. Then the next day and a half, was spent running around the entire boat, checking on Stan practically every 20 minutes. He knew his brother meant well, but for Pete’s sake, he’s not some helpless child!

After a while Stan just sighed, “Fuck it.” He mumbled, climbing out of bed. The serum was working, and he was already able to use the bathroom on his own, so by those standards, he was well enough to be up and about, at least in the cabin of the Stan-O-War-II. The slight tingle from the venom’s tenseness concerned him, but when he felt no follow up, he decided he was well enough to sit in the kitchen and make himself a damn cup of coffee.

And so Stanley did, enjoying the little things he never thought he’d miss about being able to move fully around on by one’s self. Measuring the grounds, pouring the water through the machine, having the scent of a nice new roasting pot of coffee fill the room, it was relieving. He added his cream and sugar and took his seat at the table, enjoying the gentle rocking of the sea. Glancing out the small kitchen window, he could practically feel the cool ocean breeze with the little salty kisses that lingered through the air. Stan took a long sip, enjoying the fact that he was well enough to at least do this, without Ford barging in, and berating him with 100 different questions. However, this was short lived.

When Stanley was bitten, Stanford had to kill the vermin that assaulted his beloved twin, carry an unconscious Stan inside, treat his wounds, produce a serum to counteract the venom’s effects with what little supplies he had, and the worst part— _wait._ Waiting for Stan to wake up was the worst part. _‘What if I gave him the wrong dosage? What if it was a different but similar looking creature? What if the serum is wrong? What if…What if…What if Stan never wakes up…?’_ The horrors of his own thoughts are what kept him still and awake at night. Not the sea, not the wailing of the mysterious creatures, not having to navigate their ship on his own, _no._ The thought of losing his brother— _Stanley._ That’s what kept him up, that’s what terrified him that’s what- _Stan is awake._ That’s all that really mattered at the time. The overwhelming rush of relief and joy, but that was cut short by the follow up worries. Ford emphasized the aftercare plan for Stan, making sure to stress for him _not to be stressed._ He did his best to check up on his brother for any need of care, constantly questioning his well-being to make sure that there were no lingering effects from the beast. All this while going back up on the deck and fine-tuning new security features on the boat, more so the day after his brother has awoken. In fact, that’s what he was doing at this time, recalibrating the night security barrier, but decided to go back inside and check on Stan.

That’s when he saw him. Ford froze in the doorway, eyes going wide, color draining from his face. He stood still and stared at the sight before him. Stan, outside of the bedroom, by himself, at the kitchen table. Stan also froze in place, mid-sip, when Ford had arrived. The room filled with silence between them, until Stan cleared his throat, setting the mug down, “So uhh, hey Sixer-“

“What are you doing?!” Ford cut him off. “Why are you out of bed-“

“Look-“

“Stan you know I told you, you have to stay in bed.”

“I know but listen Ford-“

“Do you know what that venom can do to you?!”

Stan forced himself to stay calm, but still got annoyed by every sentence Ford cut him off of. “Look, all I wanted was to make myself a cup of-“

“What if something happened to you Stanley?! _Did you ever think of that?!_ ” he was practically vibrating with fury from the mental list of all the things that could have happen to Stan had he been alone for any longer. “I can’t believe you! I can’t believe you could be so, so, _irresponsible_ Stan! If I hadn’t had come earlier-“

Stan ground his teeth at this, “Now listen here-“

“No Stan! You don’t understand!”

His blood was simmering now. The forced calm was now gone. “I ** _-ahh!_** ” Tightness and pain emitted from the center of his chest, quickly spreading upwards to his inner biceps, seeping down his arms.

Ford’s fury deflated when he saw Stan tense up. _‘Oh no!’_ Stanford immediately dropped his oncoming barrage of queries and made his way to his brother’s side. “Stan? Stanley?! What’s wrong? What can I get you? I knew this would happen!” he placed a hand on his twin’s shoulder.

Stan clutched his chest, quivering a bit. He focused and forced himself to relax. Ford was by his side now, _and not_ being a total ass. He took a deep breath through clenched teeth and tried to voice something, but that came out of him was a strangled noise.

“What do you need? What can I get you?” Ford was on edge now, concern and worry shaking his voice. “What’s stressing you out?”

 _‘Focus, calm…’_ “You!” Stan finally let out.

Ford was taken aback by the statement, not fully understanding what he meant. “What…?”

Another exhale and he finally had control over himself. Ford’s soft and broken _‘What’_ shook Stan to his very core and bones. He sighed, looking at his brother. He really was in worst shape than he had thought. The bags under his eyes were darker, coffee stains littered his shirt (he didn’t even want to think about _when_ was the last time he had changed clothes). _Ford was a mess._ “You’re stressing me out.” Stan gently guided Ford towards him.

“I don’t…”

“You’ve been up day and night Stanford.” He looked at him sternly before continuing. “You’ve been runnin’ round non-stop- _Just look at yourself!_ ”

Ford listened to his brother, not knowing how to respond. “I…”

“Just,” Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You wanna help me?” He nodded. “Alright, then c’mere.”

Stanley led him to the kitchen booth. “But, Stan…” was his only protest as he took a seat by his brother.

“No buts, except yours over here!” He gave him a small push, solidifying Ford’s place. Ford complied, tense and self-conscious about whether or not his actions may cause a flare up from the venom. Another nervous silence was spread between them. Stan was the first to break the suffocating silence. “C’mere.” He hooked an arm over his brother’s shoulder, pulled him closer to him.

Ford jumped at Stan’s actions, but let himself be moved. Stan yanked Ford flush against his chest, resting his head over his heart. “Stan…”

“Shh, relax Sixer.” He cooed, giving his brother a small kiss on the head. He rubbed Ford’s arm, signaling him to calm down.

Stanford’s quick panic flickered out as soon as he felt Stan above him. His comforting warm arms, slowly dragging on him. He couldn’t stop the small whine from leaving his lips. Instead, he tried to hide it, draping an arm across Stan’s broad body and burying the side of his face deeper into his twin’s chest. Stanley chuckled a bit, letting Ford move into a more comfortable position. The twins pulled themselves tighter together.

Ford clutched onto the fabric of Stan’s shirt, shutting his eyes, and briefly taking in his scent. This was Stan, his brother, the most important person in his life. He let himself relax and melt into Stan’s hold, focusing on the sound of his heartbeat. The steady rhythm of it going along the light sway of the ocean waves. All his worries, his concern for Stan’s well-being slow drained away. Because here he was. Stan was still here by his side, alive and well.

Stan smiled as he felt the tension in his brother release. He steadied his breathing and let Ford curl himself closer to him. His free arm found its way to Ford’s hand, tracing light circles on the outside of his palm before gingerly interlocking their fingers together. A pleased hum left Ford, rumbling deeply from his chest. Stan chuckled again. If he didn’t know any better, his brother was practically a cat at times like these. Curling up close to the source of bodily heat that he so desperately craved (though would never admit), humming (purring) in content. “Ford…?” Stan questioned.

Ford laid peacefully on his brother, eyes closed. It took a small shake for him to be snapped out of his trance. “Hmm?” he looked up at Stan, drowsy and droopy-eyed.

Stanford really was a mess, making Stan frown a bit. “C’mon, my lap is getting’ cold.” He guided Ford off of him a bit.

Ford’s cheeks redden. “Oh…uhh, do you really want me to-No, no, it’s alright. As long as it helps I suppose.” He nervously stuttered. “Do you want me to…?”

“Not, that.” Stan rolled his eyes. “Look, just let me-” He grabbed Ford and rearranged themselves, giving his twin majority of the kitchen bench to lay down on, as he sat on the edge.

Ford, in his dreary and somewhat confused state, allowed himself to be manhandled. “Stan…?”

“Lay down.” He mouthed, grabbing the other by the back of the head and guiding to his lap. Ford tensed up again, resting his head on his brother’s lap. But Stan merely ignored it.

“But Stanley, what about you-“

“Shhh.” Stan threaded his fingers in his hair. His locks were a bit sticky and slick with grease. Who knows when Ford last showered? But that wasn’t the biggest concerned right now. He lightly raked through the tangled mess, pulling the knots out. Ford would twitch with each strand pulled free, uttering a small apology from Stan with each tug. “There we go…” Stan whispered once tangle free. “Better?”

“Hmm…” he pleasantly hummed. Stanford laid there, Stan brushing his fingers through his hair. He felt the full weight of exhaustion settle in on him. He shook his head to ground himself. He pushed up, trying to get up, “But Stan, I need to-“

“Poindexter, relax.” Stan held him in place, pushing his shoulders down. Ford glared it him, and he returned it. After some time had passed in the stare down, Stan sighed, softening his eyes. “Please…”

Stan’s soft plead struck directly to his heart. But no, he had to get up, stay up to take care of Stan. “No Stan, I have to make sure you’re okay and-“

“You want me to be okay? Then lay back down damnit!” A harder push emphasized his point. “You’ve been up and about for 4 days Stanford! You’re gonna kill yourself with all this!” Stan felt his blood pressure rise along with the venom’s hold on the muscles in his chest. Stanley stifles any signs of distress the best he can, but reflexively braces a hand on his chest. Ford’s eyes widen with panic “I’m fine, I’m fine Sixer…Just, lay back down.” He manages, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

Stanford complies, worry plastering every fiber of his being. It was apparent that fighting Stan was not helping, but still, his urge, _his need,_ to take care of his younger brother nagged him. His heart raced, anxiety and fear building up again before feeling Stan sigh, placing a hand back on his head once more. His twin grumbled something above him before going back to combing through the thick locks again. Stan lightly scraped his nails along Ford’s scalp. It felt so nice, so pleasant amongst the bundle of nerves he felt within himself. He didn’t say anything, just let Stan work through him again.

A please smile curled the corners of Stan’s lips as he watch his brother unwind again. Lightly, lovingly dragging his fingers through the messy mop of hair before him. Ford seemed better, but not nearly as relaxed as he would have liked. Stanley placed his free hand on Ford’s side, gently rubbing and massaging his back. The action was unexpected, causing Ford to jump in surprise. “Shh.” He cooed.

But again, after the initial shock, he allows himself to soften up under Stanley’s touch, sighing as the other works through the tension in his muscles. He can’t help but curl in on himself more, settling closer to Stan’s heat, his warmth, his care. Part of his mind screams at how unbecoming it is for a grown man to nestle in on the lap of another. But a bigger part of him just seems to go numb, slowly being infected by the welcoming pleasure. Stanford can feel his mind drift farther away from his anxiety. Each little movement, every swift touch, every light graze Stan placed on him, _just resonated within him._ Ford fought to stay awake, even letting out a complaint when Stan finally took off the glasses from his face, which was met with no response. The exhaustion accumulating from the past few days felt overbearing now. He was once able to stay awake for week long periods with nothing more but a few 20 minute naps in between hours. But now, no longer. Stanley had him now, he was under his mercy. Truth be told, Ford would stay awake for days if Stan ever wanted him to do so. Or now, lull him to sleep and slumber, by his mere delicate touch of those calloused fingers. 

Stan continuously brushed through Ford’s hair, caressing his back, beckoning his brother to take some well-deserved rest. His twin laid on his lap, breathing even and steady with no signs of fighting or getting up. He continued to comfort Ford, making sure the man finally got some rest. Even when Ford laid still in his grasp, the rise and fall of his breathing the only noise filling the room, Stan continued to pet him. Partly because he enjoyed to do so. He loved how he felt under his fingers, the way Ford tried to hide his pleased groans. Stan enjoyed this simple comfort he could provide for his brother, because it was clear through their past discussions that a comforting night’s sleep was a luxury not readily available to Stanford during his travels across the multi-verse. But what Stanley enjoyed most was the unspoken love Ford’s actions expressed whenever they were together, melded within each others' grasp. Ford really did love him, after 30 years of trying to get him back, after 30 years’ worth of sleepless night spent alone, _here he was._ Stanley Pines was no longer alone, he achieved what he strove for, his brother back, the love of his family. That’s all he needed, that’s all he cared for.

The last bits of the will to stay awake faded away. Ford finally accepted this, allowing his tiredness consume him. He wanted to take care of Stan, but Stan’s care, his intoxicating touch, drove him under. The rocking of the open sea, the lingering smell of coffee, the loving sensation of Stan, it was enough. They were both satisfied.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you stream chat for deciding the title of this work. <3


End file.
